As his son displays a predilection for bashing things, Jake Wallis Simons
asks whether it's healthy to learn how to fight

Boys and girls are different. It may not be fashionable to say so, but any parent will confirm it. I have two girls and a boy, and the contrast is obvious; the girls may not be particularly girly, but they don't have the boisterousness of my son.

They also do not have the same affection for all things martial. When we are outdoors, my four-year-old boy will pick up any stick or small branch within a five-metre radius and wield it like a miniature caveman. He isn't interested in cars or trains particularly (thank the stars), and he is a sensitive soul, not in the least thuggish when playing with his friends. But like most other boys, he is fascinated by soldiers, guns, and those small plastic figurines that look like a cross between a robot, a wrestler and a male stripper.

He also likes to hit things. Not people, I hasten to add. But his biology seems to impel him to attack cushions or tree stumps while roaring like a miniature William Wallace. A few months ago I held up my hands for him to punch. It has become one of his favourite games.

I can relate to this. When I was a child, my (somewhat idealistic) mother banned toy guns from the house, but relented when she saw me and my brothers "shooting" each other with sticks.

In my adolescent years, I was a terrible sucker for martial arts. Let me be clear: I gave it up when I was 18, and am not the sort of person who spends his adult life making like Karate Kid. But I put in so many hours of training that even now, 16 years of softness later, I can produce a half-decent punch when I put my mind to it. And if, heaven forbid, I ever found myself under attack, I wouldn't be a complete sitting duck. (OK, so I'd be mostly sitting duck. But not completely.)

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Yet there is something deeply unhealthy about a preoccupation with fighting. It is said that men think about sex every three seconds. I suspect that for the martial arts enthusiast – and I've met a few – violent fantasies occur almost as frequently. For all the rhetoric about discipline and Zen, the vast majority are fuelled by nothing nobler than a fragile ego, which compels them to expend vast mental and physical energy glamourising the act of causing injury to others. Which is, well, unpleasant.

At the same time, there is undoubtedly deep-seated about the urge to fight. Four-year-old boys are driven to bash things. And I must admit that I, at 34 years of age, still find bashing things a great stress reliever (I signed up for a very silly boxercise class at the gym the other day). To attempt to repress this particularly male urge seems a recipe for disaster.

Moreover, learning the basics of fighting can have some important benefits. It can make you less afraid of confrontation. It can give you a resilience of character, the ability to take a punch and carry on. And, of course, if the worst were to happen – whether in the school playground or in a pub – it can make you a little bit safer.

But how far does one go? I've recently been giving my boy a few tips to improve his technique. He has picked it up fast, and his punches are now on the verge of hurting my hands. Should I buy him some boxing pads? Or would this be a step too far?